


under the vanilla sky

by Awriterwrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Drinking & Talking, Drinking and eye fucking, Harry has his usual exhibitionist streak, Louis refers to Harry as farmer yacht boy, M/M, Smut, The yacht, There's a hot tub!, Yacht-a-geddon, just me pretending i know what really happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5621140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht?  That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on.  He also thinks he'd like to get closer.  Just to see what's under those aviators.  Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet.  Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life.  On a yacht.  In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.  </p><p>Here's what really happened on that yacht.</p><p>Or, my opinion, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	under the vanilla sky

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of head fluff and dirty dirty smut I thought I'd share with you on day three of yacht-a-geddon. Hope you like it! Leave a note and let me know what you think! Feel free to share...

“Come with us” _they_ said. “It will be fun” _they_ said. “You’ll have a blast” _they_ said. “St. Bart’s is the gayest place on the planet” _they_ said.

Louis currently thinks that “ _they_ ” are full of shit.

As it turns out, sitting on a really fucking big yacht in the middle of the Caribbean sea in sweltering hot weather with about a million people you don’t know is about as fun as poking yourself in the eye with a sharp stick.

Louis just wants to go home.

Sure, it’s posh as hell and fancier than anything he’s ever experienced; what with the servers parading about with crystal tumblers of scotch and flutes of champagne and canapes of every size and shape, but still…It’s just a boat. Really. And Louis just finished celebrating the holidays with his family and that, in itself, is kind of a crazy whirlwind that needs at least 2 weeks of solitude to recover from but…here he is.

Louis can’t figure out what the big deal is. It’s just a boat. A boat with something like 6 floors, 12 bedrooms and nearly twice as many bathrooms, a full kitchen and catering staff, several lounges, three hot tubs, a game room, a theater viewing room…It’s maybe bigger than Buckingham Palace, but…it’s just a boat. Louis slips his fingers into his soft fringe, sliding the errant strands off of his sticky forehead. It’s fucking hot out, is the thing (“a dry heat” _they_ say), and Louis feels like he’s melting. He's wearing a rather fitted addidas t-shirt, the applique over the left breast scratching at his nipple underneath and the red stripes thick and tight, swooping over his shoulders, making it feel even more confining under the hot sun. He wore black swim trunks and checkered vans; feeling not quite underdressed, but not quite cool enough for the island chic that most of the other yacht-goers seem to be sporting.

There are a lot of bikinis, barely there triangles of stretchy fabric, and brightly colored sheer cover-ups floating around the deck like cottonwood in the warm breeze. Most of the guys seem to be wearing swim trunks, like Louis, but are either shirtless or wearing preppy sorbet colored polos or obnoxiously patterned floral Hawaiian style shirts. It’s all a bit tacky and overwhelming, if you ask Louis, but no one’s really asking him, though, are _they_?

He loses his friends pretty much the moment he steps on to the hulking mass of a boat, an older lesbian couple, part of the contentious “ _they_ ” Louis is cursing in his mind, already schmoozing with the wealthy celebrities, industry insiders and social climbers littering the main deck near the yacht’s entrance. His other friend, an aspiring DJ, has already found where the music is being generated from, bopping his head in time with the inane 90’s pop that is assaulting the pristine air surrounding the floating party. Fuckers, Louis thinks, shaking his head and pulling the hem of his shirt down over his curvy hips.

Louis is greeted warmly by a couple of matronly looking ladies, wearing modest one piece mom suits and kaftans. They usher him to an area just off the main deck, explaining that some of the celebrities are being papped for some tabloid or promo or something, so Louis follows their perfectly manicured fingertips and noses out a surprisingly well stocked bar. He tells the good looking, tan, blonde guy behind the bar that he’d like a gin and tonic, taking note of the top shelf gin being generously poured into his glass. He swizzles his drink with a festive rainbow colored plastic stick and tosses a candied cherry in his mouth. Louis walks toward the edge of the yacht, finding a plush white sofa to recline on, while he takes in the sights, crossing his left ankle over his right knee.

The amount of excess is almost ludicrous, he thinks, watching the 50 or so people dance and drink and snack on food that probably costs more than his entire grocery bill for a year. He does eat mostly cereal, but still. It’s fortified, alright? Nothing wrong with getting your 13 essential vitamins and minerals in a neat tidy bowl, is there? He sees a cluster of people at the front of the yacht, his friends among them, and gets the impression that they are well aware of the photographers circling the yacht from above and alongside the boat in tiny speedboats, like black insects on the horizon. There is a lot of laughter and general merriment coming from the revelers, but there is an overwhelming sense of it all being for show; fake somehow.

Some of the bikini clad girls are tossing their hair about and sliding their cover ups off of their tawny colored, nearly emaciated limbs. He thinks he recognizes a few of them as supermodels, but he can’t really be arsed to try to remember their names; not his thing, to be honest. What he does see, however, leaning against one of the open entrances that lead to the innards of the superfluous ship, standing with one hip popped out casually and one shoulder pressed to the cool gleaming white structure of the jamb is no less than a _god_ of a man.

Tall and lanky, but seemingly muscled and solid at the same time, wearing a completely open jet black _expensive_ looking button up top (that looks, frankly, like a bowling shirt) and white swim trunks, is probably the most arresting, good looking guy Louis has ever laid eyes on. He has a broad face, with dimples ghosting smooth tan cheeks. His nose is large and almost regal looking. Nearly obscene large pink lips protrude under a shadow of scruff lining his upper lip, the affect erotic and simply luscious. Louis wants to run his tongue over those lips, taste them, bite at them a bit…Even from across the ship; he can see that those lips are pillowy soft, made to be sucked on. The guy has long, dark, wavy hair that cascades around his face and curls around his neck. It looks soft and probably smells like summer and suntan lotion, Louis thinks, almost wistfully.

The guy, Yacht Boy, Louis thinks to himself, slurping on a frosty ice cube, is wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses so he can’t see his eyes from here. Eyes really make or break a face, Louis knows, shaking his head a bit as he forces himself to look away. He glances around the deck, idly tapping his foot against his knee to the music. Kanye is bellowing “harder, faster, stronger” as Louis tips back the rest of his drink. He could definitely go for another. He can feel the alcohol pooling in his stomach, tingling in his veins, calling out for him to drink more.

He looks back to where Yacht Boy was standing. His shirt has opened up further, slipping alongside his narrow hips, showing the smooth expanse of his chest and stomach, deep rosy mauve nipples puffing out on the otherwise smooth supple face of his chest. Louis can see the smudges of dark ink under his collarbones (are those… _birds_?) and a ginormous butterfly on his stomach, of all places. There are some kind of leaves crawling up each hip, his soft belly framed by the dark feathery tattoos, the shadow of a 6 pack winking at Louis in his stupor. He is ridiculous.

And hot.

Yacht Boy has put a straw hat on his head, Louis notices, smirking, because he looks like a hipster farm boy now. All he needs is a stalk of wheat hanging from his mouth and a pitchfork and he could be transplanted to rural England or mid-America somewhere. Except, no, they are on a fucking yacht in the Caribbean, so…Yeah. Hipster farm chic. Farm Yacht Boy raises a hand and Louis, for one wild moment, thinks that maybe he’s been caught staring, thinks that maybe FYB is going to wave at him or maybe even flip him off for being a rude ignorant sod posing on this posh floating monstrosity of a boat.

That hand is fucking huge. Large (probably calloused, Louis thinks, his pulse quickening) slender fingers sporting multiple rings and a cross tattoo at the V of thumb and pointer finger, glide up the buttery soft side of FYB’s body, nimbly caressing the slight curve of his hip and slotting in to the indents of his rib cage, just under his left nipple. His thumb skittered across the raised nub of his nipple, and from where he was sitting Louis could see the guy’s body shudder almost imperceptibly. Aside from the self-stimulation, Louis thought he looked like a lazy dad after a big Sunday meal, loitering in a kitchen doorway. That, or a porn star from just about every one of Louis’ wank fantasies harvested in his own creative mind…and dick.

Christ. Louis had to meet him. Had to see if he was really as good looking as he seemed from across the boat, under the blinding sun on the gently rolling waves of the sea.

A waiter came along just then, scooping up Louis’ empty glass, asking if he could bring him another cocktail. Louis asked for another gin and tonic and rubbed his palms on his shorts. He licked his lips, tasting the salty tang of perspiration and a leftover hint of alcohol. As he waited for his drink, a young guy flopped on to the couch next to him.

“Hiya!” He exclaimed, far too enthusiastic for Louis’ liking.

“Oh. Hi.” Louis said, absently, looking around the yacht for FYB, who had moved from where he was standing just a moment before.

“Wild party, huh?” The kid asked.

Louis glanced over at him, noticing that his nose was sunburnt and his cheeks were dotted with freckles. He had a wide grin and a shock of wiry copper colored hair on his head. Looked like a nice enough bloke, but he had nothing on Farm Yacht Boy that had already caught Louis’ attention. “Right. Wild party.” Louis replied, going for uninterested, but not too rude.

The kid seemed to get the message, angling his body away from Louis, eagerly chatting to the person sat to his left. Louis breathed a sigh of relief as his drink arrived and he was left to his thoughts. He couldn’t see FYB at all, he seemed to have disappeared into thin air, so he entertained himself by people watching. There seemed to be a commotion at the front of the boat where the guy had been standing and someone hollered out, “Paps are gone!” earning a round of cheers and a veritable landslide of people moving toward the formerly restricted area. People from the front of the boat dispersed and it seemed less crowded overall. Louis decided to explore.

Making his way toward the couple he came with (traitors), Louis snagged some kind of gooey cheese substance on a tiny piece of toast, topped with a sliver of cool green cucumber, popping the whole thing in his mouth as he walked. Rich people know how to eat, that’s for sure, he thought appreciatively. He bumped shoulders with his friend, the elder of the two women and gave her a toothy grin. She slipped an arm around his waist and continued her conversation.

After a brief round of introductions, Louis found himself bored again. This group was talking about the benefits of micro-gardening which Louis could give two fucks about. If you could micro-garden a cheeseburger he’d be happy. He snorted to himself, earning a raised eyebrow from his friend so he excused himself in search of a toilet.

The sun was setting, the sky this milky shade of bluish-white bleeding into a pale almost carnation pink. It really was beautiful. Louis thought he’d find a quiet place to sit and watch the sun go down… after he took a piss. He can be poetic when he wants. Just not with a full bladder. He went inside one of the many glass doors standing open, entering the interior of the yacht for the first time. He could smell the clean scent of washed cotton, wood furniture polish and money as his eyes adjusted to the light. It was cooler inside, the air con blasting. His mum used to say, “I’m not paying to cool the outdoors!” whenever he or his sisters left the doors open in the heat of summer. Apparently rich people liked cooling the outdoors. He could bet they also liked heating it too.

He found a set of stairs in the center of the floor, leading both up and down. He could hear the clatter of dishes and the frantic yelling of what he assumed to be cooks and servers coming from downstairs so he decided to venture up in search of a loo. There was probably one on this floor, but he was kind of curious to see the inside of the boat. It was really very lavish, and he was intrigued.

Upstairs seemed to be a collection of rooms, mostly bedrooms scattered around a central lounge, each furnished with the same scheme of cream and nautical blue, polished wood floors and floor to ceiling windows with sweeping views of the sea all around. He found a bathroom down one of the short halls, relieving himself quickly and washing his hands efficiently. He looked at himself in the mirror, fixed his fluffy windblown hair and swiped some spearmint chapstick over his lips. “Not bad, Tomlinson” he thought, giving himself a wink.

He was thoroughly grossed out by himself as he opened the door, chuckling at how stupid he could be sometimes. He didn’t even notice the solid body barreling down the hall as he exited quickly, intent on getting another drink and finding a secluded place to wait out the rest of the evening.

“Shit. Fucker.” Louis exclaimed, his shoulders flying up against the paneled wall behind him.

“Oh fuck. Sorry, mate. ..” The voice apologizing was deep and dripping with something dark and delicious. Like chocolate, and sex and every other cliché thing. “Sorry.”

Louis looked up, rubbing his elbow that had suffered a bump in the collision and was shocked to see Farm Yacht Boy beaming down at him. “Erm…uh…” Suddenly he was a mute. What the fuck. Usually people couldn’t shut Louis up with his smart mouth and wisecracking comments. Why so suddenly unable to even say hi or tell the guy to fuck off?

“Didn’t see you. Sorry.” The guy chuckled low in his throat, his adams apple moving up and down slowly with the sound.

“Where’s the fire?” Louis croaked. Seriously? Where’s the fire? Louis wanted to jump in the ocean and join a school of fish and swim far far away. Oi.

FYB laughed again, the sound deep and gravelly in his chest. Louis noticed he’d lost the shirt and was completely topless, one arm covered in an odd assortment of tattoos, the other one with a simple stark eagle. He was standing close enough that Louis could feel the heat coming off of his body, as if he’d soaked in all of the sunshine and was just going about sharing it with whoever crossed his path. “Was running to get my ipod. For music…” Louis arched an eyebrow. “Right. Music. What else would I be getting my ipod for?” FYB laughed nervously, scratching down his chest, Louis’ eyes trailing the movement.

Louis smirked, finally (thank God) finding his tongue. “Music out there is quite shit, isn’t it?”

The guy smiled, running a big hand through his hair, the curls tumbling off to the side. “It is. Was going to head over to the other side of the ship, take a dip in the hot tub. S’ quieter over there.”

Louis felt his tongue go numb. Because. This guy? In a hot tub? With the white trunks? Louis was just sure they’d be a bit see through once wet and that. Well, that was probably something Louis just had to see.

“So, um…I’ll just…” FYB gestured toward one of the doors across the hallway, backing away from Louis, leaving him scrambling for a thought. Something. Anything, just to keep him talking.

“Louis!” Louis nearly shouted, cringing at the sound of his breathy voice.

The guy turned around, almost out of Louis’ space and looked at him wide eyed and questioning. “Hm?”

“My name. It’s uh…” Louis swallowed, taking a step closer, chasing the warmth oozing off of the guy’s golden skin. “My name is Louis.”

The air was still and quiet, the party echoing outside but muffled here in the quiet hallway a story up from all the action. Louis’ heart was beating in his ears, his pulse erratic. The boy across from Louis smiled, the dimples deepening on his cheeks, his soft wet lips spreading across perfectly white square teeth. He slid his sunglasses off of his face, pulling his hair up and off of his face. Louis idly wondered what happened to his farm-boy hat. “Harry.” He said, slowly, deeply, the sound traveling through Louis’ body like a current.

His eyes.

His eyes were green and clear. Wide and innocent, but shrewd at the same time. They were sparkling in the dim light, the shadows from his dark lashes skipping across sun kissed skin. Louis couldn’t help it. He couldn’t, he…he was caught. Caught in the light from behind the boy’s eyes, pulled in by it, by him, absolutely enraptured by him.

“You have…really…” He stepped closer, his scuffed gym shoes almost touching Harry’s bare toes, hand going up to pet the boy’s pretty, pretty face, “Pretty eyes.”

Harry pulled in an audible breath, his pupils dilating a fraction. “Oh.” He said simply, eyes running over Louis’ face. “Thank you.”

Louis stared into Harry’s eyes, mesmerized, and inhaled, smelling sea air and salty skin and something like cocoa butter and vanilla. “Yeah.” His hand was still on Harry’s cheek, thumb fitting neatly in the dimple, whiskers tickling at his palm.

A loud laugh rang out through the air, coming from downstairs, very near the stair well, breaking the spell. Louis stumbled backward, realizing what a complete tool he was being. First, “where’s the fire” and then “you have pretty eyes”? What the fuck was he doing? Must be the sun and the gin. Pretty boys and sun stroke probably aren’t a good combination.

“Yeah. So…I’ll uh…See you around.” Louis mumbled, frantically turning so he could flee down the stairs and lose himself in the crowd; avoid making a fool of himself any further.

He had almost made it to the stairs when he felt strong fingers wrap around his thin wrist, pulling him backward. The tender skin covering his pounding pulse point tingled at the contact. “Oh!” He exclaimed, feeling his back slam into Harry’s front. “So do you.” Harry rasped in his ear, making Louis laugh nervously because, Christ, that voice. It was doing things to his cock. Dirty things.

He turned in Harry’s grasp, Harry not letting go, looking a bit scattered and dumbfounded. They shared the close air and Louis gazed into Harry’s eyes again, blinking rapidly as he waited. Harry’s thumb moved slowly over the inside of Louis’ wrist. “Want to…”

Louis looked up at him, his brain already screaming “Yesyesyes.” To whatever Harry was going to ask.

“Wanna go with? To the hot tub I mean?” Harry spoke slowly, almost like it took considerable effort to enunciate every syllable, every sound a unique delivery, almost like musical notes joining together to create a beautiful song. Louis could smell the bitter tang of wine on his breath and felt the warm wet air leave his body on an exhale, fanning across Louis’ face.

Louis nodded his head dumbly. Harry smiled, brilliantly, lighting up the darkening corridor. “Excellent. S’ on the fourth floor, opposite end of the yacht from where you came on.”

He released Louis’ wrist, turning quickly to go back toward his room, leaving Louis there with a semi in his shorts and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, despite the artificial coolness cloaking the entirety of the yacht’s interior.

****

Louis made his way through the yacht, discovering a second set of stairs on the other end, this side of the boat much more quiet than the other. He climbed up two more sets of stairs and exited the inside sun lounge (with a tropical fish tank spanning the entire side of the room) to a modest deck with curved plush seating around a sunk in hot tub. The cushions here were bright blue, a sharp contrast to the bright shiny white curved surfaces of the small deck. To Louis’ delight, there was no one here, the entire deck quiet and bathed in the rosy glow of the setting sun. There were only a few soft lights glowing from inside the hot tub, and they were a pale, almost periwinkle blue. It made for a nice contrast to the light outside, creating the illusion of a purple glow. It was enchanting.

Louis noted a stack of fluffy white and blue towels on the edge of the bench next to the hot tub. He gently tugged his t-shirt off and slipped into the hot water, letting out a quiet moan of appreciation as the hot hot water pricked at his skin, sinking in further until his shoulders were submerged and his entire body was surrounded by the soothing heat. He leaned his head back and sighed, closing his eyes and letting the stress of the day of travel and the weeks of hectic chaos leading up to the holidays slip away.

“Brought refreshments.” Harry’s deep voice startled him out of his near sleep haze.

Louis sat up abruptly, hot water splashing over the side and on to the deck. Harry looked sheepish as he dropped to a crouch and set a silver tray on the ground next to Louis’ head. On it were two water bottles, some crackers and a bottle of champagne, uncorked of course. Louis smirked and looked up at Harry through his wet lashes.

“Wasn’t sure what you’d like.” Harry replied, pulling his hair up to a bun, a few loose tendrils hanging down around his face.

“All of it looks lovely.” Louis said, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a long drink. When he opened his eyes he saw Harry staring at him, his mouth hanging open just a little, his lips full and wet.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Harry said, flustered, as he dropped in to the hot tub next to Louis. “Was just…you um…”

Louis arched an eyebrow, waiting for Harry to collect his thoughts. This seemed to be a thing with him, taking his time to speak. Harry seemed to appreciate Louis’ patience.

“You’re just really good looking.” He said slowly, finally, turning Louis’ cheeks a deeper shade of red than the hot water had already made them.

“Oh. Well.” Louis reached out for the champagne bottle. “Glasses?” He said, trying to change the subject.

Harry sunk further in the water; his nipples dipping down and then out of the water again, getting even perkier. Louis thought that they probably felt _hard_ with how erect they were now. He really wanted to pull one of them in to his mouth; see what kind of sound he could drag from Harry’s throat just by sucking one of those pretty little things deep into his mouth.

“Thought we’d just…share?” Harry said, letting his hands float to the surface of the water, their size immense by Louis’ estimation. As he watched Harry flip his hands slowly over the surface of the water, Louis wondered what those hands would feel like gripping his hips, yanking at his hair, pulling at his arse…

“Good by me.” Louis replied, taking a long drag out of the emerald green bottle, a few drops sliding out of the corner of his mouth, cooling the column of his neck where they dribbled down.

“You…uh...” Harry floated through the water, landing next to Louis so he could thumb at the drops. “Spilled some.” He sucked his thumb into his mouth, pretty bright pink lips pursing around the pad of his finger, a slight slurpy smacking sound leaving his mouth.

Louis swallowed, the fizzy liquid tingling his throat. “Th…thanks.” Harry smiled and took the bottle from Louis, wrapping his mouth over the opening and pulling champagne into his mouth. He looked…fucking obscene, drinking right from the bottle like that, his cheeks hallowing and his eyes dropping shut. An image of him on his knees with his mouth just. like. that... flooded Louis’ brain, making him squirm against the lining of his trunks, the course fabric rubbing at the head of his very interested penis in a very distracting way.

Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, offering Louis the bottle. Louis accepted it and took a long drink, holding the liquid in his mouth for a moment until he swallowed, meeting Harry’s eyes over the bottle. He passed it back silently, Harry doing the same. The air was thick and humid, from the hot tub and the slowly passing time as the two of them drained the bottle, not speaking, just staring at each other through quickly drooping eyelids.  

Louis was feeling hazy and slow, the gin and champagne filtering in to his blood stream along with the heat from the hot tub. He wanted to say something, something to convey something to Harry but he couldn’t think of what it was. It was that kind of slowly rooting drunkenness. Finally, he stammered, “H…Harry?”

Harry rolled his head to the side and looked at Louis, his bright green eyes owlish and so so pretty in the diminishing light. “Hm?”

“M’ hot. Too hot.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

Louis just stared at him. What? Was he? “That was really bad, Harold.” Louis finally said, pulling himself into the much cooler air. In the back of his mind he wondered where his friends were and what time it was, the alcohol and presence of Harry making his mind slow, time passing at an unknown rate to him.

Harry giggled and followed Louis out of the tub.

Louis was right.

The trunks were semi-see through.

Holy fuck.

Harry’s flaccid dick was impressive.

Long and floppy, barely concealed through the wet, sheer fabric, Louis could see it bobbing around as Harry walked over to the seating area and lay down. He fucking laid down. His wet trunks were clinging to his thickly long muscled thighs, practically riding up under his balls. He was completely oblivious, though, as Louis stopped, halfway through drying his torso to ogle him.

Louis swallowed thickly, feeling a bit wobbly on his feet as he tried to appear casual, walking to sit adjacent to Harry. Louis’ own cock was definitely feeling excited about the nature of Harry’s shorts. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“You know…I can…uh…see your dick through your shorts.”

Harry looked up slowly, his abs flexing and crinkling under the soft layer of tummy. He looked down at himself and smiled. “Huh. How bout that?” He flopped back down, closing his eyes and running a hand up his torso, stopping to thumb over a nipple and flutter along his collar bone.

Louis stared, his dick definitely past semi-hard now, unbelieving at how un-phased Harry was by the state of his cock.

“How’s it look?” Harry muttered, so low Louis wasn’t sure he even heard him.

“Wha…what?”

“How’s it look?” Harry repeated, louder this time.

Louis felt a wave of shock roll over him. Who was this guy? This had to be the weirdest experience of his life. Here he was, on a multi-millionaire’s yacht, half drunk and being asked about a virtual stranger’s dick? Through see through white swim trunks?

Harry opened one of his dark green eyes, half in shadow from the twilight descending around them, waiting for Louis to answer, apparently. “Um…well, I…” Louis wasn’t sure how to answer. Does he say something simple like “good”? Or maybe a little more descriptive like, “good enough to eat”?

Louis cleared his throat, walking tentatively closer to where Harry sat. Harry opened his legs, letting one of them fall to the ground, the other propped up against the back of the sofa cushions. It looked to Louis like and invitation. Louis took it.

“Looks like you might be a grower and a shower.” Louis finally said, his voice husky and much more even than he thought it would sound.

Harry hummed appreciatively as Louis settled in the space between Harry’s legs, propped up on his knees, facing him. The cool night air felt good on his overheated skin, Louis thought, as he felt drops of water sliding down his spine and into the small gap at the back of his shorts. Harry sat up slowly, still reclined, but propped up on his elbows. “Want to see?”

Louis held his breath. Was Harry asking him if he wanted to see his dick?

What?

Louis looked down at Harry’s crotch; clearly Harry was starting to get off on this too. His cock had grown in size and seemed to be pressing up against the seam of the soaking wet shorts. Louis thought he could make out the head and could see sparse dark hairs curling around the base. “Yes.” He finally whispered, because, why the hell not?

Harry smirked, one side of his mouth curving up higher than the other, his pec muscles twitching as he sat up further and used his big hands to grip the waist band of the shorts. He thrust up in the air, making Louis gulp in anticipation, sliding the shorts under the curve of his arse. The clingy wet material got caught up on the head of his dick, making both of then wince, but Harry quickly recovered, stretching the material so it slid down his hips and under his balls, finally revealing the prize Louis had asked to see.

It was impressive.

Pretty. Pretty and strong, slightly curved, filling up nicely. Louis licked his lips unconsciously. “Um…Can I?” He gestured at Harry’s shorts.

“Sure.” Harry’s voice was deep and raspy, still slow, but it held an urgency that it maybe didn’t have before.

Louis pulled the shorts the rest of the way off, tossing them to the ground, the wet slap of them resounding on the deck. Louis sighed and placed his hands on Harry’s inner thighs. He looked up at Harry, noticing how big his eyes looked, how, for as peaceful and zen Harry seemed, he was barely containing the excitement thrumming under his skin as Louis’ soft fingers pulled at the tender skin of his inner thighs.

“Louis.” Harry breathed out, desperate need pulling at the edges of the word.

Louis knew what Harry wanted. Louis wanted it too. Had wanted it from the minute he laid eyes on the quirky kid with the hat and the open shirt and the tattoos. Had wanted it from the minute he felt the heat of his skin outside the bathroom and heard the deep timbre of his voice. He wanted Harry’s dick in his mouth, his skin under his hands, his voice in his ear. He wanted Harry to fuck him long and slow, hard and fast and he wanted the night to never end.

He’d have to remember to apologize to the lesbians for being such a shit earlier.

Louis leaned forward, letting his breath flow over Harry’s fully hard erection. He could see Harry’s balls get fuller as the skin covering them puckered up under the heat of Louis’ chest. Slowly, probably painfully slow to Harry, Louis licked a fat stripe up the underside, tasting the chlorine from the hot tub and the musk that was unique to Harry, unique to his sex. Harry groaned above him, his body tense underneath Louis.

Louis felt a surge of power take over, replacing the lazy drunken haze, giving him a sense of confidence that had been eluding him all night. He pushed up, covering Harry’s body, feeling his dick press in to his stomach and then into his own erection, the icy cold shorts pulling a harsh gasp from both of them. Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s and sighed at the contact. Harry’s lips were sweet, like candied apples, and he smelled so good, the tips of his hair wet and emitting the scent of coconuts and lime, sunshine and the sweet green scent of summer sweat. Louis licked out along Harry’s bottom lip, smiling into the kiss as Harry opened up for him obediently. Their tongues met and Louis felt drops of precome warming the head of his cock.

“Fuck. Harry, wanted to…wanted this from the minute I saw you.” Louis moaned against Harry’s mouth, rutting up against him, his cock, feeling the pull of desire swirling around them as the vanilla sky gave way to twinkling stars and inky blackness.

“Yeah?” Harry breathed out, grabbing at Louis’ arse, pulling the cheeks apart, making Louis gasp harshly against his neck.

“Y…Yeah.” Louis stuttered, suddenly too hot again. Too hot and beleaguered with too many clothes.

“Mutual.” Harry keened as Louis twisted one hand into his curls and the other at one of his nipples, pulling at the pert bud, twisting and rolling it with finesse.

“Want…w…want…” Louis moaned, feeling Harry’s hot hands dip inside his shorts, his palms definitely calloused, fingertips too, reminding Louis to ask him later if he played guitar. Probably did. Most hipsters do. Or maybe ukulele, what with that stupid hat and all…

“Bedroom.” Harry ordered, shoving Louis off of him and grabbing a royal blue towel simultaneously. He wrapped the towel around his waist, doing very little to hide his hard on, making Louis giggle at how absurd he looked.

“What?” Harry asked, sounding injured, either from the insult of Louis’ laughter or the throbbing between his legs, Louis couldn’t be sure.

Louis covered his mouth with a hand, fingers splayed across his wide smile. “You…it’s just…you look like you’re wearing mom jeans.” He sputtered, laughing harder when he saw the incredulity in Harry’s eyes.

“Mom jeans?” Harry smirked, pulling the towel up even higher, just under his nipples. “ _Mom jeans_? You’ll pay for that shorty.”

Louis placed his hands on his hips, nearly stomping his foot. “Shorty? You might be the one ‘paying’ tonight, my friend.”

Harry barked out a laugh, holding his towel with one hand and swooping down to retrieve the water bottles and his dripping shorts with the other. “C’mon.”

****

Harry all but shoved Louis face down on the firm mattress of his cabin once they stumbled inside, the effect of the champagne making both of them clumsy and loud.

“Oof!” Louis exhaled, scooting upward, but remaining on his stomach.

Within moments Harry was yanking his shorts down, rather roughly, Louis noted with glee, and reaching across the bed to fumble in a travel shaving kit on the nightstand. He could hear Harry breathing heavy, stretching across Louis’ back, his dick poking into the small of Louis’ back. Louis tried wriggling so he could get it nearer his arse, but he couldn’t move. He was pinned down.

“You’re kind of a tease, you know it?” Harry rumbled above him, finally lining himself up so that he could slide his cock up and down Louis’ wet crack.

Harry stopped abruptly. Louis smiled into the pillow. “You’ve…you’ve got a…” Louis giggled and couldn’t help it. He wriggled his arse a little, teasing Harry, knowing it would drive him insane. “You’ve got…is that a _bird nest_ on your arse?!” Harry whined.

“Tis.” Louis said, clearly, so as to not be misheard. He just got it. He was very proud of all his tattoos, but this might be one of his best yet.

Harry was quiet behind him, his fingertip ghosting over the still slightly bumpy ink. “You like it?” Louis finally asked.

“I love it.” Harry said reverently, bending down to kiss it. What a weirdo, Louis thought affectionately. But it was kind of sweet, and endearing, if not a bit strange, having Harry kiss his arse cheek like that. But, this just wouldn’t do. Louis could still feel Harry’s hard on pressing in to the back of his leg and the night wasn’t getting any younger, so…

Louis moaned and arched his back, his body itching to feel Harry fill him up with something, his fingers, tongue, cock. Anything. “Don’t have all night here, Harold.” He said, his tone teasing and high.

Harry shuffled behind him and Louis heard something rip. Something that sounded like a packet of travel lube. Bless FYB and his apparent boy-scout-preparedness.

“Gonna open you up with my fingers and then fuck you into this mattress, yeah?” Harry groaned, definitely serious now, leaving any sentiment about tattoos behind, as he rutted against Louis’ thigh, biting and licking along Louis’ neck and shoulder.

All Louis could do was nod his head frantically and try to open his legs up because, _yes please_.

In less than a second or two he felt Harry move again, grabbing a pillow and pulling Louis’ hips up with wet sticky fingers so he could slide it underneath him. His arse was high in the air now as Harry spread his legs with firm hands at his inner knee. Louis could feel his hole clenching as Harry let out a long labored breath. He looked over his shoulder, finally, his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the masculine cabin with dark paneled walls and nautical fixtures and décor, and saw Harry pulling at his dick quickly, the head wet and shiny, Harry’s mouth open in a lax O, eyes staring down at the swell of Louis’ bum.

“Ya gonna make good on your promise or just shoot your load all over my back?” Louis teased, earning him a playful swat on his left cheek, just under the tattoo, the flesh jiggling slightly at the touch. Louis arched his back, wanting more of _that_ , more of _something_.

Harry’s breathing hitched as he leaned forward and pressed a few wet kisses into the dimples at the bottom of Louis’ spine. Louis felt a cool firm finger at his hole, slick and wet with lube. He couldn’t wait, so he pushed back on the rigid digit, groaning as he breached himself with Harry’s long thick finger.

“ _Christ_.” Harry moaned behind him, sitting up to watch as Louis fucked himself backward. “Fuck. You are…so… _fuck_. Jesus.”

Louis pushed up on his forearms and slid back and forth on Harry’s finger, doing all the work and completely happy with it. “More.” He demanded, his voice hoarse and needy.

“Shit. Yeah.” Harry breathed out, almost in awe, pressing a second finger in along with the first, starting to thrust inside as Louis pushed backward.

The stretch was acute, Louis hadn’t fucked in a few weeks, but it felt so _good_ , Harry’s fingers were curling in just the right way and Louis could almost feel them rubbing against his spot. If he just…twisted a bit…that way…”Fuck! Right there.” Louis yelled out. “Right there. Fuck. Again.” He sputtered, feeling the pillow under him getting wetter with his own pre-come, dribbling out of his impossibly hard cock.

Harry kept his fingers moving just right, pushing and rubbing against Louis’ prostate with every pass. “Another.” Louis gritted out, opening his legs even wider, Harry moving with him and pushing in a third finger with the next push in. “Nnghhg.” Louis groaned, wanting to come, _needing_ to come, soon.

Harry fucked him with his trio of fingers, twisting and twirling them, finding his prostate and then moving away, scissoring him gently, but firmly. “Harry…” Louis whined, wanting to turn over, see Harry when he sunk inside his body. Needing to kiss him, feel him covering him with every inch of his body. When Louis was getting fucked he wanted to feel overwhelmed, completely submerged in every feeling, sensation of it all. He liked being on his back.

“Want to turn over love?” Harry whispered, stilling his fingers.

Louis nodded his head, trying to still his hips, still fucking back on Harry’s hand. It was hard to stop, it felt so fucking good.

Harry pulled his fingers out of Louis’ tight hole, its rim trying to cling to him, trying to pull him back in. Harry let out a hot shuddery breath and moved to the side so Louis could flip over. On his back, Louis made grabby hands at Harry’s body. Harry smiled and complied, crawling on top of Louis so he could cover him from head to toe.

“Hi.” Louis simpered, licking into Harry’s mouth.

Harry kissed him back, the want simmering below the surface as they satisfied their need to kiss, to feel, to explore for a moment. “Hi.” He whispered back, breaking the kiss so they could breath.

“I’m ready.” Louis finally said, after their kissing had become more of an exchange of licks and bites than anything resembling kissing and tenderness.

Harry kissed along Louis’ neck, arching his back as Louis slid his hands down Harry’s broad back. Louis pushed Harry’s crotch down on to his own, their dicks sliding along one another beautifully.

“Shit. _Louis_.” Harry gritted out, reaching toward the bottom of the bed, near Louis’ knee to pick up another packet of lube and a condom. He pushed off of Louis, Louis whining as the cool air reached his hot damp skin. He quickly rolled the condom over his length, Louis’ eyes nearly bulging out of his head at the sight of Harry’s rigid length, trembling with excitement at getting _that_ inside of him. After emptying the entire packet of lube on his dick (“Excessive”, Louis teased. “I’m big.” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders), Harry was finally lining himself up with Louis’ waiting hole.

“Ready?” He asked, voice rough and low, the sound of it wrapping itself around Louis’ dick, making it twitch obnoxiously.

“Yes. Fuck me already.” Louis demanded, opening his legs and pushing his arse up toward Harry’s cock.

Harry didn’t have to be told twice. He pushed in slowly, too slowly for Louis’ liking, so Louis grabbed a hold of Harry’s hips and pulled him toward his arse, pulling Harry’s dick inside his body harshly until Harry’s hips were pressed to Louis’ ass. “ _Louis_. Oh my god.”

Louis planted his feet firmly on the mattress and swiveled his hips, grinding up against Harry’s cock inside body, deep inside him. Louis was not a patient man. He’d been waiting too long as far as he was concerned. He wanted to come and he wanted Harry to fuck it out of him. _Now_.

Harry took a moment and the pulled Louis’ legs up over his shoulders, folding his compact body nearly in half. He pulled out, the slide delicious and slow and then thrust back in, hard. Louis whined and braced himself, pushing his hands flat against the head board, pushing back against Harry’s body. They quickly built a dirty rhythm, their bodies synching up, each of them grunting with each thrust and moaning with each slow drag out. Louis couldn’t understand how Harry’s body fit his so well, couldn’t fathom how another person, another cock specifically, could make him feel so good, feel so fucking high.

“Feels. So…good…fuck.” Louis managed to get out between thrusts, slamming his body forward as Harry slammed forward as well, the slap of their skin colliding, hips to ass, covering the walls and the insides of Louis’ ear, a fast staccato beat that sounded like nothing he’d ever heard before.

Harry gripped Louis’ ankles, his body a mass of muscles and hard edges as he held himself rigid while fucking into the smaller man underneath him. “You close?” he breathed out, quickening his pace.

“Fuck. Yes… _Fuck_. Just like that, Harry. Don’t…d…don’t stop.” Louis rolled one of his nipples, the other hand still firm on the bed behind him as Harry shifted just the smallest fraction of an inch and pounded into Louis’ prostate. He must have felt the change in Louis’ body, attuned to what was going on inside and outside, driving him on, urging him forward to keep up the pace, keep nailing the spot inside Louis that was bringing him closer, closer, closer.

Louis wailed and stopped fucking himself on Harry’s cock, his body still and shaking as he let Harry fuck him relentlessly. After a hoarse yell, he shot come all over his chest and tummy, some of it slapping against his chin and neck. His whole body shook with pleasure as he whined and rode out his release, Harry pounding into him until Louis begged him to stop.

“Finish. Come on Harry.” Louis moaned pulling Harry down to him to kiss him, breathless and shaking. Harry ground deep inside Louis, making the smaller boy groan, the aftershocks intense, especially with the way Harry’s belly slid along his still twitching cock. With one final deep thrust in, Harry stilled, burying his face in Louis’ neck, muffling his cries and moans, as he came hard inside the condom, the heat filling Louis up from the inside out.

They lay like that for a few moments, Louis’ legs wrapped firm around Harry’s waist, Harry smothering Louis in the best possible way, breathing heavy and feebly pulsing inside Louis still. When Harry finished and had come down enough to move and express coherent thought, he pulled out and rolled off of Louis, making Louis whine with the loss of both the fullness and heat of Harry’s body on and in his.

“Wow.” Harry finally said, staring up at the ceiling, his big hands splayed across his chest.

“Wow?” Louis said, his voice light and airy. “That’s all you have to say?”

Harry turned to face Louis, a mischievous grin playing on his red glossy lips. “Fucking wow?” He tried.

Louis laughed out loud and curled in to Harry’s body, nuzzling in to him, smelling the scent of sex and sun and Harry’s deodorant. “Like pretending it’s the first time.” Louis said, pressing his lips to Harry’s hot skin, right at the place where the other half of his heart lie.

“Thanks for coming.” Harry said simply, kissing the top of Louis’ head. He was being sincere, but the innuendo wasn't lost on either of them, their grins a happy mirror between them.

Louis hummed and squeezed Harry’s hip. “Couldn’t stand seeing those pictures. You looked so fucking hot Haz.”

Harry chuckled. “There will be more tomorrow, you know.”

Louis nodded his head, sighing, but then smiling broadly and lifting up to look his husband in the eye. “Yeah, but the joke’s on us, innit?”

Harry smiled back, his handsome face arresting in the glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. “They’ll never know you’re here, will they?”

“Nope.” Louis said, dropping back to the mattress, eyelids drooping with sleep.

Like so many times over the past five years, no one will know that they are here together; side by side, sleeping, fucking, loving each other, just like they always have.  Their own private world, their own private joke. It’s what they’ve done, to make it bearable, over the years; they’ve made it a private joke, a way to manage what could very well be tragic. But, they’ve figured it out and they’ll continue to figure it out as they navigate the years to come. What matters most is right now, Louis thinks, as he drifts off to sleep. What matters most is being here, now, in Harry’s arms, breathing him in, sharing his air, his life and this love. That’s all that’s ever mattered. That’s all that will ever matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a note. XXOO


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